You have ideas that bloom like mushrooms across the storm sodden forest. They are vast and they are beautiful and they seem to come from nowhere and I do not know which ones might be dangerous to me.

You have stories like cobwebs along the baseboards of the cottage home we joke about never wanting. The threads alone glisten invisibly and -- I am ensnared.

You have stares like venom of a cellar spider. I'm afraid it could be enough to kill me, if only it could penetrate my skin.

You have silences like a retreating tide which pulls at the edges of my soul and softens my defenses as if you were a shaman dentist removing my emotional calculus.

You have kisses that remind me they are only for me.

As if I could forget.

IronNoder 2018: 06/30